


Part 2: Gathering

by awanderingmuse



Series: When the Dark Comes Rising [2]
Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Genre: Fix-It, Gwen Stanton/Original Male Character, Magic, Memory Lost and Regained, Multi, Past Jane/Bran, Past Will/Bran, Paul Stanton/Original Female Character, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Stanton Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 08:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20703119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awanderingmuse/pseuds/awanderingmuse
Summary: With another Rising in its infancy the remaining five must gather. As a safeguard the Light left certain defensive measures in place. It us up to Will, Bran and Jane to assemble those defenses. In the process they must discover the loving bonds that will be the foundation for the Circle to come.





	1. Chapter 1

# Mary

## Spring 1994, Paris

** [ _ Walk  _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-ca1ocriv0) [ by Ludvico Einaudi ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-ca1ocriv0) **

Mary knows the moment the seer walks into the upscale Parisian bar. He skirts around the crowded bar forgoing ordering a drink for slinking into the nearest back corner he can find. The table is normally for large groups, and when the man sinks into it she thinks that any group might mistake it for empty.

He's not much to look at, this seer that she will convince to serve the Dark. Small in both stature and presence, weasel like and greasy. Not, like the one that the dark fae tell her serves the Light. 

A blonde artist who shines as bright as Mordred's arrogant father had. Last she checked he is going mad from his service to the Light. It's a shame, she could do something about it, but Mordred was not interested in reusing the Light's cast offs.

She serves a few more customers before making her way over to the table in the back. The seer is fiddling nervously with a discarded napkin left behind by a previous guest. If Mary is being honest, she is not impressed. But, this man has information she needs and he believes they are willing to pay his price for it.

This is her first real task for Mordred. An opportunity to figure out how Will plans to stand in their way and to stop him before it happens. They think that the Light must have some plan for blocking them. The other side is too cunning and paranoid to not have something up their sleeve. But, they do not know what the plans are or how to stop them. 

"What may I get you, love?" she asks, choosing to go for the persona of an unassuming bar girl. Let the man make the mistake of making a fool of himself. With him off kilter she will be able to trick him into being her tool and thinking it's a reward.

"Oh, no, I am waiting for someone." The man says not even sparing her a glance. He's supposed to say a code word to anyone who approaches him. To say in someway that he thinks he'd like a Mai Tai. By magical signature she'd know the seer anywhere, but that's not for him to know.

"Surely you can have a drink while you wait. I'm sure whoever you are waiting for wouldn't mind that." She slides into the booth across from the man.

"I have already told you." The man snaps his eyes finally leaving the napkin to give Mary a portion of his attention. She doesn't know what her face triggers in him but his eyes go distant with a vision for a moment before he falls forward slightly when the vision releases him. His rudeness does not inspire her to help him. But, she does allow the man a moment to compose himself. 

"I believe you have something to say to me." She smiles and the man gulps nervously. 

"My apologies." He begins, but Mary is not here to make friends. The man will serve the Dark and therefore her. 

She wants to know what things he just saw. The vision was clearly about Mary as it caused him to recognize her. But that is not her current objective and can come later.

"Cute." She says and gets up to leave. 

"No, no, no." The man fumbles verbally over himself. Of course, he believes she has the power to stop the visions and the steady descent into madness they almost always bring. She's sure walking away right now would seem a terrible tragedy to him. The only reason she doesn't is because the man has knowledge she needs. "I would like a Mai Tai."

She smiles at the man. "I'll get right on that, love." and then saunters away. It takes her several minutes to actually bring the man his drink. The bar is crowded this night and people keep demanding drinks. It will be good for his ego to wait anyways.

It's her break when she finally manages to get a moment to bring the drink over. The man looks startled when the drink lands in front of him. He opens his mouth like he might want to complain but thinks better of it. 

"I believe you have some information for me." Mary says expectantly as she once again sits across from him. 

"I believe you have a fix for me." The man replies. 

"Now Geoff." She sighs disappointingly. "I know you know I can't help you till you share the information I've come for." 

The man starts a little at her easy use of his name. Of course, she isn't supposed to know who he is. The fae who brought them to each others attention never allowed them to exchange names. However the man is practically screaming the information at her mentally with the desire for her to not know him.

"How?" The man demands indignantly. 

"I have my ways. The same ways that will allow you to control and use of those visions. I'd be more than happy to let you know more. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know."

"The vision." Geoff says. "You want me to tell you about that absolutely insane vision? I don't know what use it could possibly be! It was probably just an alcohol induced dream!"

Mary tsks softly. Leaning across the table as her sisters had done a thousand times when they wanted to comfort one of her moods. "Come now Geoff. You and I both know that's not true. And I will be able to make sense of whatever it is you saw. More importantly, as soon as you tell me I will be able to help you."

"If you say so." Geoff grumbles cantankerously. "I was in a cave that stretched long before me. Ahead of me were two young men. One nervously made a joke about the grooves in the wall that acted as banisters. They had walked this path together before but not for a very long time. I had the sense that the cave was old and decrepit and that it might fall in on us. I had the sense that it was being held up by an outside force young yet as old as the earth itself, but not meant to hold this cavern. Ahead of me was a young man tall and slim but otherwise unremarkable and a golden eyed ghost. They were making their way through the cavern attempting to get some important item before someone else did. That's it. That was my vision."

Mary made sure to commit every bit of what the seer said to memory. Some things from the vision were very clear. The two men in the cave where her youngest brother, the last of the Old Ones, and his albino friend. A man just as far away from his time as Mordred since the two happened to also be siblings. It was also clear that her brother would bring some kind of old magic to heel though she wasn't clear what. She also had no ideas what the tunnels were about or what it could possibly be that Bran and Will were after. 

Those things she could at least pass on to Mordred when he came later tonight. He would know what it meant and what to do. 

"You now have something to share with me." Geoff demands angrily. Apparently impatient with the time she has taken to go over his words. Mary is tempted to leave him to his Mai Tai for his insolence. That however is not how Mordred would want to hear that she is conducting the Dark's business. They are not cold like the Light. 

"Of course." Mary says. "The knowledge I have though it is not taught easily in one sitting. We will have to meet several times over. For now I will tell you that the visions you have are not strange hallucinations as the doctors would have you believe. You are not suffering some kind of stroke, seizure or alcohol induced hallucination. No, the things you see are quite real and will come to pass."

"How do I control them." Geoff demands desperately. It is his attitude that keeps Mary from feeling any remorse when she says, "That is for another lesson. Come to me when you've had another vision of the two men and I will tell you more."

Her business with the strange man done Mary leaves him in the booth to assist the other patrons of the bar. The crowd has only thickened during their talk and it is easy to ignore him in favor of helping everyone else. He tries several times to get her attention to the point that the manager finally asks if the man has been harassing her. 

She tells him that the man is mostly harmless but that she thinks he has had too much to drink. The manager takes that as a sign that he will soon become a rowdy guest and escorts the man outside with taxi fare. Mary studiously ignores the dirty looks the man sends her in favor of the rum and coke she is making. 

When he has a useful vision he'll be back. Desperately hoping someone will help him. 

The night continues with the familiar ritual of making drinks and flirting with patrons in hope of a better tip. Not that any of the men she smiles sweetly as have any chance of actually holding her attention. Not when every passing hour builds the anticipation in her gut, soon Mordred will come to hear of what she had learned. If the information she got from the Seer is useful, then she may even get rewarded for her good work. She is confident that the information is good, the seer had seen Will for god's sake. 

It's nearing two in the morning and the bar has cleared out considerably. The only people that are left are lovers and drunks, both oblivious to the world around them. The bell that hangs of the door rings dully as another person comes in. 

Mary has long since stopped looking at the door hopefully every time it opens. She isn't a school girl excited for her crush to come over to speak to her. Mordred will show, of that she is sure. To behave in any other fashion besides calmly is ridiculous. Besides it's not like theirs is a romantic relationship. Though she wouldn't call it platonic either. It is somewhere in between and that is fine with her.

They don't need something as mundane as a label to describe what it is that they share. 

"Mary." Yvette calls from the front door where she is greeting patrons. "Someone is here to see you." 

She looks up to see that this time it was in fact Mordred who has entered the bar. He is tall with a haughty arch to his brow and strong line to his jaw that Mary could never define as anything but attractive. He is already sitting on one of the bar stools near the front watching her expectantly. The simple seat could just have easily been a throne. For a moment Mary lets herself feel loss for all the things Mordred could have had if not for the Light. 

It's how he had found her after all. Having remember on her own exactly how cold the Light could be. Her own brother allowing her to be kidnapped by the Dark simply so he could have some minor advantage in the fight he inherited. She might even forgive that, but the fact that he left her to be saved by their neighbor and never apologized for not caring. That she could never forgive.

Then she learned that the Dark only acted out of necessity and likely regretted that scaring her was necessary. Mordred himself apologized for all the hurt their actions had caused. He offered to rectify the damage and that sealed her service. Revenge would be much better.

Mordred understood being betrayed by family. That is why they worked so well together and why she was more than willing to serve his cause. Even if it ultimately put her against her own family.

She signals to Yvette to switch posts with her. As the other bar tender passes her she says, "You'll have to tell me all about how this date turns out tomorrow."

Mary rolls her eyes but otherwise ignores the other woman. There is no point in trying to explain to someone who refuses to understand how things are. 

"Have an interesting day?" Mordred asks once she makes her way to him.

"Yes." She says easily. Mordred nods and turns his attention to the patrons of the bar.

A moment later he turns back to her, his expression now intense. "You may speak freely. These Peasants will only hear what they want to hear of our conversation."

That means that Yvette will be insufferable once their shift begins tomorrow. "I was able to speak with the seer." Mary says keeping her other thoughts to herself. She should be grateful that Mordred was able and willing to make it easy for them to speak freely.

"And?" Mordred asks expectantly. 

"I wasn't able to convince him to serve the Dark yet. But I believe the next time he sees he will be desperate enough to come over." It would be great to have a seer that could tell them what her brother plans to do at their request. Though much more training will be required for that to occur.

"Were you able to get any useful information from the vision you were told of?" 

"Yes and no." Mary says. "I suspect there is some of it that is important but I do not have enough context to know for sure."

"Then tell me what he told you." Mary instantly feels guilty for the annoyance that tinges Mordred's tone. She should have known that he would want all the details immediately.

"Of course, My Lord." Mary responds apologetically. "He saw the Watchman and the Upstart in a cave or tunnel. He had the distinct impression that they were trying to get to something before the other side did. I am assuming that would be us. He also said that he felt like the tunnel was on the verge of collapse but some old and yet new magic was holding it stable for their passing."

"I must think this over." Mordred says after a moment. "Get me a drink." 

Mary goes to do as Mordred asked getting a smooth red wine she thinks he will enjoy. While she is pouring the wine Yvette comes by and winks. "I think you'll get a date this time lovely." 

Mary shrugs her off and takes the drink back to Mordred. He sips the red liquid absently never giving any sign that he may like it or dislike it. Or perhaps Mary just isn't being observant enough to recognize the cue.

"Was there any indication of what my brother was hoping to retrieve in the seer's vision?"

"No." She says. "Only that it was an item of importance to both sides." 

"There are no items of importance to me." Mordred muses, "However, if something were to become important to the Light I would want to prevent them from having it at all costs."

"What item would be important to the Light?" Mary asks intrigued by the puzzle being presented to them. Mordred gives her a harsh look and she subsides remembering that it is not her place to question him. 

Content that she has remembered her place Mordred turns away from her to think. She tries not to watch as his ice blue eyes go distant with thought. She definitely does not wish they would focus on her with intent instead. 

"When I left the world the Light was working on putting protections in place should the Dark win the final rising." Mordred muses softly, twisting the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. "It might be that that it wasn't the only purpose for those defenses."

Mary is dying to ask what the defenses might be but she knows he will not appreciate her pressing him. So she keeps to herself instead. "Did the seer describe the tunnels, at all?"

"No." Mary says, then remembers, "He did mention hand rails. They were remarkable because they were carved into the walls."

Mordred nods, as if that is what he had expected to hear. "Those handrails are in the seat of High Magic. The old seat at least, the new seat has yet to be claimed. I met my brother there in a shared dream and he was able to pull a shield to defend himself with. It would be like the Light to place their defenses in actual defense items."

He trails off thinking. Mary though is grateful to finally have direction for her need for revenge against Will's coldness. If they can get the shield first then her brother will loose and be at her mercy. She is itching to do something, now. "If My Lord wills it I would gladly go to the old seat of high magic and claim the shield in your name."

She hopes she will not disappoint Mordred by speaking out of turn if she is offering to help further the cause.

Mordred smiles like a teacher whose pupil has failed to understand the assignment, but in an endearing way. "If only it could be that easy." He dismisses. "Remember, the Light is willy. While our seer has led us to the goal I am certain there are many steps in between now and then."

"Then how may I best be of service." Mary asks desperate to help and more importantly see to Will's downfall.

"You will have the Dark fae follow your brother and he will be the one to lead us to our first clue. Mordred says decisively. "There is no reason for us to put effort into solving the mystery when he will happily do the work for us."

Mary does not like that they have to wait for Will to make the first move and something of it must show on her face because Mordred sighs softly. "Come now, Mary." He soothes. "I would rather not wait either, but sometimes that is how things must be. We've talked about this, yes?"

She isn't sure how this conversation has come back to the subject of them, but he is right. Though she had followed him all the way to Paris they weren't able to be more than friends. 

Mordred had made it clear that he needed to focus on keeping himself and the things he wanted to accomplish safe from what would be a strict and falsely pious rule of his half brother. Now that the shepherd was once again aware of who he was the threat was even greater. 

"Of course." Mary says looking down at her hands where they folded themselves on the bar. "I understand."

Mordred reaches out for half a second to grip her hand reassuringly. "We have some time before the Light sets things into motion." he says and she feels reassured by his confidence. Do you think you could convince Yvette to finish your shift. I was thinking we might go for a walk. I can teach you more of magic."

These were her favorite times when they walk and he teaches her of what really lives underneath the worlds skin. It only takes a few minutes for her to convince Yvette she will make it worth her while if she finishes the shift on her own and to gather her things. Then they are out in the cool spring air, Mordred standing close to her in a park telling her how to command the natural order of the world. It's the best evening she has had in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

# Bran

## Winter 1993, London

** [ _ Torn _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqcStEae194&t=58s) [ by Nathan Lanier ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqcStEae194&t=58s) **

It truly does suit Will, Bran can't help but think as he walks the poorly lit winding halls of the university. Students make their way past him, some so absorbed in their work that they don't notice his passing. Others stare.

After twenty eight years Bran has become used to it. He ignores both groups and focuses on finding the conference room for the history department. A helpful graduate student had already informed him that lecturer Stanton was in a faculty meeting and would not be out for some time.

If the reason for Bran's visit was not so serious, if he wasn't still upset with Will for all the secrets and walking out. Afraid that the daft Dewin was going to respond to Bran’s news by taking his mind from him again. If things weren't so complicated, Bran would mock Will mercilessly for how pretentious it sounded.

Lecturer Stanton, indeed. All Bran can think of is a young boy with grass stains on his knees and a young man with the joy in his eyes haunted by a great sadness.

Bran sighs and takes a turn into a hallway that is even dimmer than the last. Part of him doubts that he is actually going in the right direction. This is the way the last four students have pointed him in though. So, it is either correct or the entire campus is plotting against him.

After a few twists and turns through a labyrinth of closed office doors Bran finds his destination. The conference room's interior wall is made of glass. If that is an attempt at transparency with students or to try to make the room seem more open, Bran cannot tell. Either way it fails to look like anything but a poorly lit fishbowl.

He stands at the corner for a moment, waiting to see if Will might look up to see him. However, the Old One is completely absorbed in whatever he is doodling on his notebook. Face set in a thoughtful expression that would make someone who does not know better think he is not daydreaming the meeting away. 

Will is so absorbed in what he is doing that Bran doubts he will look up at all until the meeting is officially adjourned. Exhaling the tension that builds up every time Bran thinks too much about talking to Will after so long, Bran allows his backpack with his meager belongings he brought on his trip to slide off his shoulder and sinks to the floor. If he has to wait he might as well make himself comfortable.

He lets his mind wander for a bit, consciously avoiding thoughts about what speaking to Will for the first time in many years might bring. Instead he thinks about Clwyd and the work that will need to be done when he gets back. The hedge by the road will need to be wrestled back into presentable form before Mr. Rowlands attempts to do it. With his thinning skin Bran is afraid the hedge may just win their eternal war one day.

Suddenly a noise in the conference room breaks Bran from his thoughts. His head snaps up just as the door opens revealing a woman with long dark-brown hair and sunny skin. Her face is kind as if it is meant to smile. She notices Bran immediately. 

"Hello there. I'm Dean Joshi. May I help you?" She asks kindly, her eyes watching Bran curiously. 

She is one of the rare ones that does not look at Bran as if he is an oddity upon meeting him.

"Um, yes?" Bran says and nearly kicks himself for stumbling over his words. Bran is the son of a legendary king. He can talk to the head of a department without making an utter fool of himself.

He climbs to his feet careful of the backpack that was leaning against his thigh and holds out his hand for the dean to shake. "I'm Bran Davies." He says making sure to keep his voice confident. "I'm a friend of Will Stanton's."

There's a gasp and thud that tell Bran that Will heard him and most likely dropped his notebook. Bran has to fight the urge to smile wolfishly at the reaction. Will may be ten years older but some things never change.

He thinks fondly of first meeting Will sprawled upon the hillside before Cafal and wonders how his friend is one of the Old Ones of legend.

The History department parts as Will wades through them. It's been hard to tell while he was sitting but Will had grown even taller than when they were eighteen. The stout round faced child he'd been had grown into a tall strong jawed man. Not that Will looked all that well. He had shadows under his eyes and a tired air about him that couldn't be fought off by his own shock at seeing Bran for the first time in a decade.

"Bran?" Will says sounding uncertain and lost in a way that Bran doubts Will has ever been. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't visit an Old friend?" Bran asks, hoping Will gets the hint.

A furrow of confusion creases Will brow and it's all Bran can do not to give a very theatrical sigh. For someone who has all the knowledge of the universe at hand, Will can, on occasion, be extraordinarily dense.

Instead Bran rolls his eyes and tries again in Welsh. If he has to be more specific he is at least going to do all he can to reduce the likelihood that he will be understood. 

“We need to talk, Dewin.” Bran says watching carefully as Will’s mind works to understand Bran's preferred tongue. Bran had made sure to teach Will Welsh as best he could while they were growing up. As comprehension dawns on Will’s face he feels pride that the language wasn’t completely forgotten. At least, he doesn’t think Will needed to rely on his power as an Old One to understand him.

He also has to fight down his amusement at the widening eyes of Dr. Joshi. Apparently Will had forgotten to mention his ability to speak Welsh to his boss, an important detail considering his specialty.

"Right." Will says lightly, stubbornly sticking to his own mother tongue. Though Bran can see by the heaviness in his friend’s eyes that it is all an act for the benefit of the department. There’s a new intensity to him that says he’s heard Bran loud and clear. "I'm sorry Bran, I'd completely forgotten you were coming."

Bran nods and with a few goodbyes to Will’s coworkers they begin walking in the direction Bran had come in. He'd seen the door with Will's name on it during his trip down to the conference room and was not at all surprised to find that that was where they are headed now.

“Do you want to get coffee?” Bran asks, continuing to speak in Welsh. There are a few things that Bran has decided to do to stay in control of this conversation.

First off, they will not be going back to Will's office, home, or anywhere that isn't public. He hates it, but Bran does not trust Will to not re-do Lyon's work. Not until he has heard Bran out at first.

That strategy presents its own problem though, because the conversation he needs to have with Will is not one he wants other people to hear. It's all fun until students start gossiping about lecturer Stanton's crazy albino friend that thinks lecture Stanton can do some kind of magic. So, no, they will definitely be having the entire conversation in Welsh. 

He's not the only Welsh speaker on the planet, but this far south his likelihood of being understood is very low. Kids in Wales are even failing to learn the language, which breaks Bran's heart. 

If Will has a problem with Bran's plans he can follow Bran anyways and listen with his higher senses.

As if to confirm all of Bran's planning Will says. "We can, erm, speak in my office if you would like?"

Bran has to resist rolling his eyes because the stubborn Sias Dewin is still speaking English. He'll catch on once Bran starts telling his story though.

"Na." Bran insists, “Let’s get coffee.”

Will gives him a weird look that isn’t completely undeserved. Bran is not known for being a coffee person. Sure he drinks it every day, but in more of a God why is it 4am again way than in a cute café down the road way.

He almost expects Will to put up a fight, but some memory of Bran’s stubbornness must win out in the Old Ones head because he nods and gestures for Bran to lead the way. He also finally relents on them speaking Welsh.

"You never did say why you came?" Will says in Bran’s favored tongue as they continue their way into the brighter areas of the building. Apparently Will is completely intent on taking Bran's offer for coffee seriously. Not that the shepherd should be surprised, while Bran isn't the cute cafe type Will certainly is.

"Sure I did." Bran snipes back and for a moment it's all okay. Bran doesn't have a million reasons to be terrified of this interaction and Will is just a good friend that he has missed dearly. Of course, that's not something he can have. Not yet at least, so he ruins the false sense of normalcy with "Like I said, we need to talk."

Will instantly becomes distant, thoughtful, and Bran would do anything to bring him back. Instead he lets the Old One think. Bran can't be selfish right now regardless of how badly he wants his Will. There's a war on the horizon and an unresolved history between them. Those things must come first.

"Alright then." Will says after a long moment. "Let's hear it."

There's so many unspoken things there. I can't imagine what you'd have to say to me after ten years. I'll humor you for now. And maybe a little curiosity.

Bran shrugs and moves closer to Will. The halls are getting more crowded now, with students headed to and from their classes. Will navigates it expertly and Bran follows. He doesn't speak until they step into the cold winter sunlight. 

It makes him squint so fiercely that he must put his sunglasses on. It's not ideal. It clearly causes Will to conclude that he is purposely closing himself off.

"I have a story to tell you." Bran says gesturing for Will to lead them to the coffee.

"Okay." Will replies taking the lead but looking at Bran quizzically. He clearly doesn't understand why Bran doesn't just come out and say whatever is on his mind. It is generally Bran's preferred method of communication. But this is not a usual conversation, it's hard.

"You aren't going to like what I have to say." Bran adds, hoping it makes Will understand that this entire visit isn't easy for Bran.

Will nods like he was expecting that and for once it occurs to Bran that perhaps Will doesn't like the way things are either. He doesn't have the words to ask though so he just forges ahead with the current topic.

"I had a - a vision." Bran declares. It's not the best way to describe the not a dream but it lets Will know that on some level at least it was real.

"A vision?" Will asks confusedly. After all, Bran's not the six’s seer.

"I don't know how else to describe having a run in with my half-brother in the seat of high magic without ever leaving my bed." Bran says shrugging. 

The dusting of snow beneath Will's feet stops crunching as he comes up short. Bran turns to face him lowering his glasses. He arches his eyebrow inquiringly because this is the moment where Will decides what exactly he wants to do.

"Must have been a dream, Bran. You don't have a half-brother." Will tries to deny, chuckling softly. With a little visible effort he moves his feet again to catch up to Bran.

Bran doesn't move from where he's standing and he doesn't let his expression change. He's honestly a little offended that Will is going to play this game. The Will he remembered would not have done so, but it had been ten years. Time changes people, even Old Ones.

He'll just have to correct the daft wizard. "You know I do William Stanton, and it's not a good thing that he's trying to gather power."

Will sighs and all the caution goes out of him for just a moment, only to be replaced by a deeply tired wariness. It worries Bran, but now is not the time to comment on such things.

"Tell me what happened." Will says flatly. It’s not at all the reaction Bran expected. Will seems to be full of resignation and cracked armor these days.

It's Bran's turn to stop and for the first time actually look at Will. His eyes are worse than tired, their worn like Bran’s had been the first several months of Jane being gone. He's not just tense he's standoffish, almost afraid of a simple conversation.

As the letter Jen Evans received indicated, something clearly was wrong. Throwing Will into the fire might be gratifying for Bran's anger but it was putting Will on the defensive.

He was surprised to find that he didn't want that. He did actually care about his friend’s well being, even though he was truly angry about the lies and the leaving. The mix of feelings left Bran feeling off kilter. He needs a moment to gather his thoughts.

He shakes his head. "Na, Boyo. Let's get our coffee first. Poor Englishman that you are, you must think it is freezing. Have to warm you up."

"We're not far." Will agrees. "But you know, there are other Welsh speakers around. Our conversation isn't completely protected."

Bran levels Will with another look. One that encourages him to remember who the Pendragon in their friendship is. "Then do something about it, Dewin."

It eases some of Bran’s worry when the comment earns him a bark of surprised laughter from Will. The Old One’s eyes widen with the shock of it and Bran is left with the impression that his friend hasn't laughed much in his adult life.

Will smiles that tiny unsure smile again and gestures for them to keep walking. “I thought coffee shops weren't your thing?"

"They aren't." Bran admits.

“Then why are we going to one?” Will asks both curious and astute. 

“You know why, Will.” Bran says unable to keep some of the bitterness from his voice with the unexpectedly honest answer. 

Will’s expression becomes unbearably sad for such a short moment that Bran almost thinks he imagined it. Then it returns to his regular solemnity, but he’s closed off now. Bran went into this conversation expecting an obstacle course and instead he seems to have a field of landmines. Everything is leading to a long overdue fight.

“You think I’ll take your memories.” Will says. There’s no tone in his voice to betray emotion. It’s detracted, like an observation about an old document. It infuriates Bran.

“I didn’t see you trying to stop Lyon.” Bran replies heatedly.

He's not necessarily surprised by the heat in his voice rather surprised he expressed it so bluntly. Bran is always one to say what he thinks, but rarely what he feels.

Will's face falls but as someone who is used to arguing for his place among seven other kids he rallies quickly. If you can call his reply rallying. "I suppose I deserve that."

Bran scoffs. He supposed he deserves that. Fifteen years of keeping secrets and Will supposes he deserves Bran's ire.

“I know you don’t trust me, but I won’t do anything.” Will says factually. A small part of Bran wants to find whoever taught Will to speak so flatly and strangle them. 

Bran hopes that his raised eyebrow is inviting Will to explain because he doesn’t really feel like dignifying that with an answer.

Will sighs, a long tired sigh. “Not to be insensitive, but if we are to fight High Magic removing you from the board would be stupid.”

Bran frowns, Will has never thought that tactlessly in his life. It’s not in his nature. “You’re lying, if you choose to not take my memories that won’t be why.”

Will sighs again, the weariness in his once friends voice increasing with every heavy exhale. “Is there anything I could say that would make it better, Bran? Look, allowing that to happen was clearly a mistake, but I can’t take it back.”

They’ve come to an impasse and Bran doesn’t know how to move past it.

Here’s the thing, Bran doesn’t really believe in Christianity anymore. Especially not with the ardent blind faith his father professes for the religion. Still, he goes to service every Sunday and sometimes he connects with the message despite himself.

Messages like forgiving those we love because in the end the loving bonds that tie you together are stronger than the anger keeping you apart. With that in mind Bran finds that while he is not over it, he is willing to try.

“Okay.” Bran says so softly he’s certain the Old One didn’t hear him.

But Will cocks his head to the side leveling that razor sharp curiosity on him in a way that meant he was waiting for the rest of Bran’s decision. He hoped Will would understand through what he was able to say.

“It would probably be better,” Bran said thoughtfully, “If we had that discussion in private. As you said, I’m not the only Welsh speaker on the planet.”

Will nods as if Bran had just said the most sensible thing he’s heard all week. “My flats not far, you can tell me about Clwyd while we walk.”

So they walk and they talk about the farm and Will’s students. It’s pleasant speaking with Will again, he didn’t realize how much he’d missed the daft wizard.

Still he can’t help but notice that Will doesn’t want to talk about himself. His students, sure. His family, great. Even Will’s neighbors seem to be something Will thinks Bran will have interest in, but never Will himself. 

Really he gets the feeling Will would truly prefer that they talk about Bran the whole time. Bran does his best to update Will on his aunt and cousins, but life at Clwyd is quiet. There is only so much to discuss, Bran doesn’t want to bore Will with the finer details of sheep husbandry.

Luckily, as promised they quickly arrive at Will’s flat. It’s a nondescript sort of building that can house a few tenants at a time. They quickly make their way up the stairs, but Bran isn’t really observing his surroundings. His attention is focused on Will who has the air of someone who is beginning to regret a decision they just made.

When they reach the flat it readily becomes apparent as to why.

The first thing Bran notices when he walks in is the mess. It’s hard to miss the mess, the papers strewn everywhere, the books piled haphazardly, the coats and clothes left on the floor. The empty glasses knocked to their side and abandoned.

The cabinets look freshly stocked with food Bran knows Will would never choose to eat. His suspicion is confirmed when he sees the trash bin overflowing with takeout boxes.

He decides not say anything, even though he’s itching to ask or point out something. This is not the Will that Bran knew and Bran wants to know why. It’s not his place though. They’re here to discuss Mordred and that’s what they will do.

Of course Will has other plans. “Sorry for the mess.” Will apologizes. “Paul keeps coming by to deride my housekeeping skills but I’ve not had the time to clean.”

Bran thinks the problem is probably bigger than having the time to clean. It’s just another clue in the puzzle that Will has been presenting Bran with since he first saw him. Honestly he is starting to feel more than a little worried. Will is not alright, but he wouldn’t know how to begin to ask. 

Apparently, Will takes Bran’s silence as reassurance that he’s not going to get lectured. “Would you like some tea?” 

“Please.” Bran says following Will into the tiny kitchen. The quiet between them is awkward and unfamiliar and it is unfortunate that they both let it get this way. Bran feels it may be more on him than Will because Will clearly hasn’t been in a place where he could reach out for a very long time.

“So, tell me more about this dream.” Will says while he sets the water to boil. 

It’s the easiest thing in the world to reach to the far right cupboard and retrieve the tea. He knew Will kept it there because it is where Jen Evans keeps hers. A quick glance confirms that it’s even the same brand Jen uses.

He passes it to Will who takes it and sets it next to the pot on the counter. A moment later Bran finds himself under the intent stare of an Old One, of course he’d never answered Will’s question.

Bran finds a chair before he starts telling his story. Will can wait a moment longer, he has forever after all.

“Not much to tell really. It started with me following you into Bird Rock when we were kids. I have dreams like that a lot, dreams of what once was. Not that I ever remembered them upon waking. This one changed though, because when we got to the throne room, Mordred was there instead. He wanted me to swear not to hinder him, I refused and he tried to kill me.”

Bran can’t help but be unimpressed with Will’s response to that bit of news, he only gives a small, “Oh.” Bran could have died at Mordred’s hand, a little appreciation would be nice.

“Never fear.” Bran says as if Will had shown the appropriate amount of concern for his well being. “I dodged his attack and managed to defend myself with the shield from the chest before waking up.” 

Will blinks owlishly at Bran for a moment. “I doubted you would die, you are here after all.” He says entirely too blandly. 

Bran is about to tell Will exactly what he thinks about his poor attitude when he catches the glint of mischief in his friend's eyes. 

The only way to respond to that kind of nonsense is to cross his arms across his chest and say, “Fine I won’t tell you about speaking to my father.”

Will relents just as the kettle comes to a boil, screaming shrilly. The Old One turns quickly to silence the kettle and pours the water into two mugs. 

Handing the warm steaming mug to Bran, Will says, “So, what did Owen say?” 

The derisive sound he makes is completely reactionary for Bran. It’s not to do with Owen, Bran loves his father, the man who raised him, more than anyone. It is instead to do with Will’s careful insistence on playing dumb, like he doesn’t know what Bran means, least he give away too much. 

“Owen knows, you know.” Bran says as an aside. “Who I am, I mean. He always has.” 

“How did you find that out.” Will asks curiously.

“He told me that morning, could tell something was wrong. Helped me get away to think it through and maybe write you. That’s all I would have done but then I spoke with Arthur.”

At that declaration Will finally leaves the counter he is leaning against in favor of joining Bran at the small kitchen table for two. Bran hopes he’ll leave playing dumb behind him as well. 

“I’d like to know how he got here.” Will admits. “I thought he left with the others.”

“He watches as best he can.” Bran says shaking his head, “Herne does still ride after all.” 

Understanding widens Will’s eyes. “Herne spoke.”

“No, he was only the vessel through which Arthur came to speak to me.”

Will huffs the air from his nose like an agitated horse. “If your half brother is running around that was a massive risk to take on his part.”

The truth is that Bran agrees with Will’s assessment. He’s not going to say that though because he is grateful that Arthur came despite the risk. “He told me to come to you, he said you will know how to retrieve the defenses that are in place.”

He finds himself holding back about Carnwennan. It’s not that he believes Will would use knowledge of the dagger against him. In fact it would probably help Will in planning to retrieve said defenses. It simply is too personal to talk about right now.

Perhaps he would have told Will before the Old One left without a reason or a word. But now he just can’t mention the only gift he’d ever received from his birth father, not yet at least.

“So, what will our first move be?” Bran asks instead.

Will chews at his lip thoughtfully, head ducked while he stares into the depths of his mug as if it might contain the answers within the warm liquid. 

“Reading tea leaves, Dewin?” Bran can’t help but tease. 

“I can’t say for sure.” Will answers instead of rising to the bait. “If I am thinking of the correct defenses,there are things of power we need to gather, shields, but as is always the case with things of power there is a time and a place. We cannot simply go to them.”

Honestly Bran doesn’t know why he’s surprised. That would definitely be the kind of thing the Light would do when leaving defenses in place against The Dark. 

“Then you’ll let me know?” Bran asks, “When it’s time?” He’s surprised to find that he’s actually worried that he will be abandoned by Will again. 

“Of course.” Will says like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

Will’s matter of fact answer relieves some growing anxiety in Bran. He is much more relaxed when he asks, “What do we do until then?”

“We wait and watch.” Will says, “And continue living our lives. The time for action will make itself apparent, I suspect in the near future.”

Now is when Bran makes a joke or shoves Will or something to force them to fall back into the easy camaraderie of their youth. But he’s suddenly afraid that this strange withdrawn Will won’t appreciate such antics. He’s so much more serious than he was in his youth, a hard bar to raise. 

Will’s stomach chooses that moment to grumble and he blushes, “I suppose we should order some lunch. You must be starved making the trip to London from Clwyd.” 

Bran is about to agree when the empty feeling full cupboards catch his eye. He can’t in good conscious let the food go to waste just because it is easier to order in.

“You have plenty of food here.” Bran says, “Surely we’ll be able to find the makings for sandwiches.”

When Will doesn’t look convinced Bran offers, “I’ll let you complain about how hard it is not to just tell everybody what every ancient document that comes across your desk says.”

As Bran suspected, Will groans at the reminder and says, “You don’t know how hard it is to pretend to translate, Bran! It’d be easier to just actually have to do the work.”

Much to Bran’s delight the conversation lasts them through lunch and Will finally begins to open up. Bran can’t say that the lonely life he is allowed to see makes him happy for his friend but at least he is allowed in.

Bran and Will talk about life and all that has happened in the past ten years, though never about why Will left, until Bran has to meet Barnabas Drew for dinner. He invites Will along but the daft Dewin declines, something about papers to grade.

Still when Bran leaves he find that he feels lighter than he has in years.


	3. Chapter 3

# Stephen

## Winter 1994, Huntercomb

** [ _ Greensleeves _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCfjMyTG3a0) [ by Adagio Trio ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCfjMyTG3a0) **

The chatter of the Stanton family and their families washes over Stephen as his daughter leans against his shins and draws a Christmas Tree. He’s not sure how Kate can focus with all the voices, he certainly wouldn’t be able too.

Various people are talking about various things and Stephen allows his mind to drift from conversation to conversation. The wives are discussing Gwen and the baby who have not arrived yet. 

James and Max are talking about the barn. Max wants to do a mural on one of the outer walls and James isn’t having it. 

Father is in the kitchen cooking with Barbra while Mother talks to James’ fiance about wedding planning. 

The rest of the kids are in the kitchen playing some kind of game while dinner cooks. 

The door opens and suddenly Paul is there. Their mother gets up from her chair to greet her son as she had done with every one of her children. 

“Will sends his apologies.” Paul says after hugging their mother. “He really does wish he could make it. His work load simply wouldn’t allow it, but he promises to be by in the new year. He also told me to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.”

In the living room the family chatter all but dies at the mention of Will’s name.

“Why are you so special, that Will talks to you?” James complains by the fire. Stephen thought the same thing privately but wasn’t about to say it out loud. It hadn’t been Paul or James that Will had been all but physically attached to growing up.

Paul rolls his eyes and shrugs the comment off, but the gesture leaves Stephen with the feeling that Paul is deeply annoyed with them. 

“I’m just guessing, but he probably knows what’s going on with Will because he’s the only one who’s actually bothered to go talk to him.” Robin says coming out of their parents' room with his eighteen month old. The diaper bag slung over his shoulder explaining his disappearance. 

Robin doesn’t have to say anything else. The reprimand to the siblings living in London is loud and clear. They could have done something to check on Will at any time. Stephen doesn’t know how Max is feeling but for him the words feel like a punch in the gut. 

“Is he doing alright, really?” The way Robin asks after Will implies that his twin had given him some insider knowledge. It also implies that something is wrong with Will.

“He’s doing better.” Paul says finally finishing hanging up his coat and joining the family in the living room. The thin set of his lips is making it clear that he’s not giving them anything else. 

It softens when their mother follows him though, sitting next to him on the couch. “Has Will been unwell, Paul?”

Paul’s response is clearly for their mother alone. “I think he’s been down for quite a while. He’s doing better though, socializing more, doing things that aren’t strictly work related. I’ve been having lunch with him about once a week and he really does seem to be in better spirits. There’s no need to worry Mum, really.”

Mother hums in a way that says she accepts Paul’s analysis but still isn’t satisfied. 

“What if all of us in London checked in on Will.” Max offers. “We don’t even have to let on that anything's wrong. Paul just has to bring him to the gallery.”

“I was planning on doing that.” Paul replies. 

“I suppose that would make me feel better.” Mother says. “And if you could convince him to come home during a weekend this spring.” 

“Done.” Max and Paul promise in unison.

Stephen is about to add that he’ll haul him in over his shoulder if he has to when there is a thud against the door. 

Father leaves the kitchen to get the door revealing Gwen holding a baby carrier, her luggage and the babies bag. 

“Baby!” Barbara all but squeals rushing towards the door to relieve Gwen of her daughter. Creating a welcome distraction for them all. 

“Hello Gwen.” Father says, “Was the trip in alright?”

“Yes. Anna slept most of the way in.” Gwen says, sounding relieved. “She’s going to need to be fed soon though.”

The last bit is said to Barbra prompting a sigh from her girlfriend. “Good luck getting the baby from her Gwen. It’s all she’s been able to talk about this last week.”

“Well of course it was.” Robin throws in a carefully off handed way. “What with Anna being Gwen’s little Christmas surprise to us.” Gwen blushes and Stephen feels like someone should take pity on her. Gwen had found herself between a rock and a hard place with Anna and had done the best she could.

“I’ll take a niece for Christmas any day.” He says with an easy smile. Best to diffuse the situation with jokes. 

“Yes, but that’s because you love kids.” James says, clearly leaving some unsaid criticism hanging. “It was still quite a surprise.”

Stephen just raises an eyebrow and his second youngest brother who is clearly just instigating for sake of it. 

“I do love kids. Which is why I want to know why I haven’t gotten to hold my niece yet.” He says looking at Barbra pointedly.

He’s not overly surprised when Barbra responds by glaring at him and holding Anna just a hair more firmly. He’s honestly surprised she doesn’t growl at him.

“Don’t worry Steve.” Gwen says coming to sit next to him. Kate helpfully moves so that she is not sitting where her aunts feet would go. “I am sure she’ll be more than happy to give her to you once Anna gets hungry.”

Sure enough the family is mostly back to normal patterns when Anna decides it is time to eat. James is now trying to convince Max that their time would be much better spent painting the fence. The wives are cooking while Barbara, Mother and Father coo over Anna.

As soon as the baby begins crying though she is placed back with her mother who quickly goes to their parents room to feed her child. Stephen wonders if he and Jennifer were the ones who turned their parents room into a makeshift nursery or if that happened with Max’s first born. 

When she comes back Gwen lays Anna in his arms and announces that she is going to help with the cooking. The sound of the women asking after the baby washes over the living room as soon as she enters the kitchen. 

Stephen looks down at Anna who is blinking sleepily up at him. She has her mother’s nose, but Stephen is sure that the red hair and green eyes comes from the mysterious father that Gwen is so glad to have out of her life. 

The red hair has him thinking about other redheads he’s known in his life. Particularly his friend Gwaine from the Navy. When they’d first met Stephen and all the guys had teased him for his parents loving King Arthur so much that they named their child after one of the knights.

That was until one night when Gwaine drunkenly looked Stephen in the eye and told him he wasn’t wrong. That he missed his king and the world he’d grown up in, but that he appreciated the modern era for what it was. But most of all, that he wanted to complete the final quest his king had given him. 

Stephen had laughed in his face of course and told Gwaine he was far too drunk. But then there was the machete wielding maniac pirate that Gwaine managed to stop without ever pulling his gun. And then, even later, the ocean goddess that put everyone to sleep except the two of them during a storm to have word with Gwaine. 

At that point he’d been forced to acknowledge that maybe Gwaine was telling the truth. Something Gwaine still teased him for when they met up for drinks. That didn’t happen as often as Stephen would like, but the man was still fulfilling his quest for his fallen king. Searching the world for something, though he’d never say what. 

Gwaine also had the annoying habit of insisting that Will was some kind of wizard and that was why he behaved so strangely. They both currently had a fairly significant amount of money on the table. Stephen looked forward to eventually introducing the two so he could cash in.

It’s finally Kate who pulls him from his thoughts by tapping on his knee. “Can I hold the baby?”

Stephen looks at his youngest daughter, only seven years old smiling at him hopefully. “Yeah okay.” He says “but you have to sit here by me the whole time, okay? And you have to be careful. Babies are very fragile.”

With the family watching he gets Kate situated on the couch and then carefully passes her Anna. The joyful smile on her face makes all the anxiety about handing her a baby for the first time dissipate slightly. 

Someone, probably Barbara takes a picture and Stephen takes Anna back. “Good job.” 

“She’s so small.” Kate says softly. 

“That’s what babies do.” James says coming over to join them. “They’re little and they cry a lot.” 

James was in currently competing with everyone to be the coolest uncle. But they way he awkwardly pushed it only meant that the kids found him kind of lame.

“And they’re cute.” Kate tells her uncle confidently. Stephen is sure that the discourse would continue but Jennifer walks into the room. 

“That they are sweet heart.” Jen tells her daughter. “But now it’s time to let your father give Aunt Gwen Anna and eat dinner.”

As expected the entire family is up in a flash racing each other for the best bits of food. Stephen gently takes Anna from Kate who jumps up to catch up to everyone else. Stephen sighs and decides he’ll sit with Anna until Gwen finishes eating.

He’s sure she could use the break and the quiet is nice. The loneliness makes him miss Will though. If his youngest brother were here Stephen is sure he’d be sitting with him. Probably reading some old tome of a book for fun. Voicing the odd bits that he thinks the family will find funny.

Stephen makes a mental note to visit Will at some point when he gets back to London. Paul is right. It’s not like their youngest brother is hard to find. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!


	4. Chapter 4

# Will

## Winter 1994, London

** [ _ Spring _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVn6pmZPS3c) [ by Filip Lackovic ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVn6pmZPS3c) **

Weeks have passed since Bran’s unexpected visit. It’s been long enough that Christmas has passed Still, despite the terrible nature of his coming Will can’t say he wasn’t happy to have seen his old friend. He was delighted to have his Lord back in some manner. Even if it meant The Dark would come rising again. 

Now though, in light of Bran’s return to Wales, it was back to the daily grind. Days full of ancient texts, meetings, and students. 

Though he had spoken with Bran several times over the phone since their reunion. A trend that Will felt would probably continue.

Will is entirely absorbed in an ancient norse text when there is a knock on his office’s door frame. With some effort he pulls himself away from the words to find a most unexpected visitor standing in his doorway.

“It was shocking,” Jane Drew says with a kind smile, “how utterly unsurprised I was to hear your name coupled with the words history department.” 

He’s not ashamed to admit that it takes him an embarrassingly long time to manufacture any kind of response. It’s not just Jane's appearance that has Will tongue tied, but her presence as well. The powers of The Lady and the Greenwitch envelope Jane like a protective cloud, slowly merging with her very soul and radiating outward again. 

There had always been a chance that this would happen. Considering everything, much like Jane, he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Jane.” Will says finally finding his words. “What are you doing here?” 

Jane gives him a knowing smile and says, “Will! I work here. You’d know that if you had stayed in touch.”

He supposes he deserved that. His eyes drift to the clock on the wall and he sees that it is nearly noon.

“Well then, my new colleague, would you like to get lunch?” He finds himself asking in lieu of responding to her comment. 

“Of course.” Jane says breezily, “You and I have so much catching up to do.” 

And catch up they do. Will finds himself retracing the path he and Bran had taken the week prior. Unlike his conversation with Bran, Jane seems intent to keep the conversation friendly despite the time apart. There isn’t even a hint of the negative emotion Will is certain is boiling just under her skin.

She links arms with him as they exit the Strand building into the cold winter air. By some kind of unspoken agreement they head towards the small cafe Will had nearly forced Bran into. Will is fairly certain that Jane likes coffee and they have sandwiches there. 

As they walk Jane talks about herself and her brothers and asks after Will’s own family. At some point Simon, who is now a doctor, married a social worker and Barney paints. Apparently Max, Barney, and the Drew’s mother were working on an exhibition together. 

“You should go when it opens.” Jane says lightly, but there is something more like a command behind her words. “I know they’ll invite you.”

Will wants to ask what her ulterior motive is but he has to hold off because they’ve made it to the cafe. 

He loves this cafe, it is time worn without feeling old. The furniture and decor a slowly building hodgepodge of things from the many years the business has been open. There’s books that people are always welcome to trade out scattered amongst the tables. They also make the best panini he’s ever had. It’s just great.

His only complaint is how busy it can get at times, now is a fantastic example. His first glance at the cafe makes it seem that every table is crowded with people. 

Will is immediately filled with uncertainty about even coming here. There is so much talking to do, discussions that cannot be had within earshot of people who will not understand. But, with the kind of luck that can’t be anything but prearranged by the forces of high magic Will sees that there is a table in a secluded corner available. 

Will taps on Jane’s arm and points the table out. “You want to grab that and I’ll order for us.” 

Jane sees where he is pointing and nods. “Of course, I’ll just have the ham and cheese.” 

There’s not much Will can do besides go to the register and order for them. He comes back with two sandwiches, one ham and cheese, one turkey, and two steaming coffees. 

He sets the food down before sliding into his seat and Jane smiles in thanks. 

The silence looms for a brief moment before Jane says, “You haven’t said anything about my new look.”

At least he knows how they’re going to play it. Will has always hated double speech but it will make clouding eavesdroppers minds easier.

“It’s a good look.” Will says thoughtfully, “I just didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding rude. How does such a drastic change make you feel?” 

He hopes it sounds like they’re talking about a haircut or something to the table of young students who are blatantly checking him and Jane out. Will is fairly certain at least one has been in his classes.

Jane hums thoughtfully, actually taking a moment to parse her reply despite the simple question. “I feel it suits me.” She finally says heavily, “I wish everyone could have this experience, it really helps make me feel better about things.”

Jane keeps speaking with thought out care, but at that point, Will has had enough double talk. He decides to take a page out of Bran’s book and try to continue this conversation in Welsh. With any luck Bran’s insistence that his best friend learn Welsh would have been just as strong for the woman he loved.

“Ydych chi’n siarad Cymraeg?” Will interrupts Jane, he tries to smile to cover some of how very rude he’d been in demanding to know if Jane spoke Welsh as well. 

Luckily Jane seems to follow Will’s thought process and only looks relieved. “Yes.” She confirms in kind, not even trying to cover her amused smile. “I see he forced you to learn as well.”

He taught me first, Will can’t help but think. He wouldn’t say it for anything in the world though, not to Jane who was even now his friend. She didn’t deserve Will’s hurt and Will’s chance to air his grievances with Bran had long passed. Still something must show on Will’s face because Jane asks.

“Will? Why did you leave us so suddenly that summer?” 

He doesn’t want to have this conversation, and not with Jane of all people. But, she hasn’t asked for anything from him even though she’d clearly been wronged. Surely if she wants the truth he owes her that. 

“It’s not a nice story.” Will says hoping that will do.

Jane snorts derisively. “I never would have guessed, Will Stanton. I thought friends abandoned each other because they were happy all the time. Was it because we didn’t remember?” 

The idea is just laughable, even though Merriman took their memories the rest of the five had still been Will’s friends. He finds himself shaking his head despite himself. He can’t look Jane in the eye though, she’d always been incredibly perceptive and he’s a little worried she'd read everything on his face. 

Warm fingers gently wrap around Will’s. It’s a supportive hold but Will still jumps at the unexpected contact. His eyes jump to Jane’s with the surprise of it.

She’s looking at him sadly. “Will, please.” Jane says. “If we’re going to win this we have to be united. All of us. There can’t be old hurt between us.” 

Jane isn’t wrong, but this has to be said carefully. “It wasn’t your fault.” He says at length, “It wasn’t anyone's fault, really.”

“Okay.” Jane says neutrally. 

Will can’t tell her the rest. It’s ridiculous but Jane was Bran’s lover for a very long time and though there were a billion other factors to Will’s choice to stay away, he can’t admit that the catalyst was jealousy. It feels shameful, now, so many years later with another rising in its infancy. 

He bites his lip and that seems to be all the tell he needs to give his friend. 

“You were in love with him.” Jane prompts softly. Her tone tinged with understanding instead of the hurt that would be completely understandable. 

It feels like she has set off a bomb so easily putting the words into public like that. But there is no terrible fallout. Still with one hesitant nod of his head Will finds himself scrambling to explain. 

“It wasn’t just that, but when I saw you two happy, I knew that I was just in the way. I’d been charged to watch, and you, all of you, were happy with the peace time. You didn’t need me sticking around, lurking, watching, lingering on alone like a restless ghost of war. It was just too much, I couldn’t stay.”

The words cut off from him as quickly as they started. He hadn’t meant to say the last bit. Jane must think him an absolute selfish jerk.

Silence follows his unintentional truths, ringing like so many warning bells. But coming far too late to warn of the dangers of letting his true thoughts out from under lock and key. It always seemed to be the case with such things. 

“Oh, Will.” Jane says and she sounds like she’s about to cry. There’s the scrape of wood against wood as she gets up, Will hasn’t finished looking up when he finds himself wrapped in a tight hug. 

He leans into Jane’s warm embrace and realizes that he doesn’t know when he last allowed himself to be held like this. 

When she finally pulls away she doesn’t go far. With her foot Jane pulls the chair around the table so she can face Will fully and not let go of the hand she’s holding. 

“You’ve been hurting for a while now, haven’t you?” She asks softly.

“My brother thinks I have depression.” Will admits. “He might be right.”

Jane nods like the assessment isn’t surprising or something to be ashamed of. She seems thoughtful, subdude in light of Wills confession and despite having the power of the universe at his command it makes him nervous. What is she thinking?

“Jane?” Will prompts. “I don’t try to read minds unless I have to or I have permission.”

She shakes her head unsetting the braid she keeps her long brown hair in. Then pulling it back and fidgeting with the end. “I’ve been angry with you since I woke up, Will. It never occurred to me that you would be just as hurt by The Light leaving the world as we were. I suppose I’m feeling a little foolish for that.” 

Will wants to say that The Light would never hurt anybody but Jane gives him a look that makes him hold his tongue. 

“I know you stand with The Light, Will.” Jane says calmly. “Despite everything I do to, but it does not make Great Uncle Merry immune to making mistakes. If you do not believe me I suggest you talk to Barnabas.”

“What does Barney have to do with it?” Will asks once again thrown off by the change in the direction of the conversation. 

“We’ve all suffered dreams from the final rising.” Jane says “But Barney suffers visions as well. His sleep is almost always troubled but the best evidence for it can be seen in his art work.”

It seems obvious as soon as she says it that Barney would still be suffering visions. He is an incredibly powerful seer after all, his powers manifested at a very young age. There would also be plenty to see right now. Will can’t help but feel hopeful, perhaps Barney will be able to point them in the right direction. 

“How so?” Will asks hoping he doesn’t sound desperate.

Of course Jane doesn’t stop seeing right through Will just because they’re no longer talking about his feelings. 

“You know what’s happening, don’t you?” She demands. “Why The Lady and the Greenwitch chose to wake me now. Why my brother’s visions are getting worse.”

“I know, some of what is happening, yes.” Will answers carefully. “I’ll tell you what I know if you’ll tell me what you know.”

“I suppose turnabout is fair play.” Jane concedes, “You first.”

What can Will do but share what he knows. He tells of his uneasy but untraceable feeling that something was wrong in the fall. Then of Bran’s visit before Christmas.

Jane seems both pleased and saddened by that particular revelation. He finds himself asking why despite his general desire to leave people their privacy.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Jane says though it clearly isn’t nothing. Unlike Will, she continues to explain anyways. “I’m just happy and sad. Happy that Bran finally sees the potential I’ve always seen but sad that he’s not getting the life he wants.”

It’s Will’s turn to reach out and hold Jane’s hand. “Is it weird if I say that I think it will work itself out? Bran will find what he is meant to do.”

Jane nods and with a calming deep breath says, “You’re right, of course. In small ways it already comes together. Bran’s dream ties perfectly into Barney’s latest work.”

“Why’s that?” Will asks desperate for any kind of sign. Anything. Even without knowing what he’s done, if Barnabas can point him in the right direction, Will thinks he shall owe him for life. 

“There’s a painting in his home,” Jane says with purposeful calm, “that Barney absolutely hates. It’s a painting of a fairly attractive dark haired man whispering to a hideous monster by a crystalline lake.”

It’s like a bucket of ice water is poured down Will’s back. He’s not sure why, but when it was just Bran and himself involved it seemed small and manageable. Now, well, with Jane awakened and Barney seeing again. This new adventures is washed in a serious realism that leaves Will cold. 

“Why does he hate the painting?” Will finds himself asking just so he doesn’t have to think about what will, eventually be brought back into the world. 

“The man looks very much like Bran might had he been born with pigment.” The response is calm but with certain amount of gravitas that increases Will’s dread. “He’s clearly a cruel man though. I think Barney hates that he must subconsciously associate such traits with Bran.”

“But he doesn’t.” Will finds himself defending his young friend from harsh judgements that don’t exist anywhere but Barney’s head. 

Jane raises a delicate eyebrow at Wills outburst and the Old One finally finds himself faced with the true reason that she came to him. It’s not that Will doubts that Jane missed him, or that she want to serve her part in the rising. That’s not why she sought him out this day though.

“You can help him?” Jane asks knowing that Will has caught on. As always her intuition is near perfect, it makes Will wonder how he missed that she would be become The Lady.

“I can.” Will says thoughtfully. “But Jane, to let him awaken like you and Bran have will put Barney in danger. He doesn’t have the means to protect himself like we do.”

Jane is already shaking her head before Will has even finished his statement. “He has us, and Barney would rather be in danger than insane. Will, I’m afraid that’s what my brother is headed for if he doesn’t get the right kind of help.”

It’s so difficult because the truth is that most Seers end up going mad, one way or another. The sight is a terrible gift. Still, Will hates that it is the Light’s actions that are driving his friend mad. That is not what he stands for.

“When can I see him.” Will finds himself asking.

“He’s terribly busy preparing for the exhibition that is coming up just after Christmas.” Jane says, adding more calculatedly. “Perhaps you can go to the opening of the exhibition. I know Max would love to see you.”

It’s a very unfair thing for her to say. So much so that Will must say it outloud, either verbally or mentally, because Jane is humming derisively. “No, William, unfair would be avoiding your family for a decade because they’re mortal. Lucky for you some of them will be there when you help Barnabas. You can right two wrongs in one go!”

“Jane.” Will finds himself saying severely, but no reprimand follows. She’s right after all.

For her part Jane just watches Will knowingly, waiting for him to admit that she’s right. 

He doesn’t because he knows she knows. Instead Will says, “So, you went into Archaeology?”

Jane gives him a look that lets Will know that she is humoring him. It doesn’t stop Will’s gratitude towards her for not pushing the issue. It’s been a long time since Will has had a friendly chat over lunch and now he’s done it twiceki. He’s finding he doesn’t want to lose these moments shared with true friends over food. 

He appreciates the tale Jane weaves for him about her schooling and tries to return the favor. Though he ends up complaining, again, about pretending he can’t read all the manuscripts he’s given.

“You could always just tell them.” Jane suggests but Will doesn’t miss the mischief in her eyes. 

Will laughs aloud at that, surprised by the loudness of it in his own ears. But Jane is grinning from ear to ear and Will can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed by it.

“That would go over well.” Will says, and feeling a thrill at Jane’s smile continues in a theatrical imitation of his own voice, “Dr. Joshi I’m afraid that the manuscript I’ve been working on isn’t the look into viking life you were hoping for. No, I’m certain it’s not the parts for an ancient medicine. Why, because it’s a simple list of ingredients for a very complex stew. Yes I am certain of it. Well, because I can read it as easily as you read the morning paper of course!” 

It’s not that funny, but Jane is laughing so hard that tears are dampening her eyelashes. Will would have gone on but he’s interrupted by a plate shattering behind him. A harsh reminder that they are in fact not the only Welsh speakers in London. 

A quick look over his shoulder leaves Will cold. It’s not that what he sees is particularly horrific. Molly, after all is quite a dear friend. 

It’s the way that she stands there mouth agape, empty tray clutched tightly in her hands and her meal spread around her feet that tell Will that he’s been made. It makes sense, really. Molly did come from Wales after all. It’s not such a far leap that she would speak the language. It’s not such a leap that she would have some knowledge of what had passed between the Light and Dark.

“Prynhawn Da.” Jane greets saving Will from his horrified stare. “I’m Jane. Would you like to join us. Perhaps William here would be so kind as to buy you another sandwich.” 

Molly’s mouth opens and closes a few times like she fully intends to reply but no words come forth. For her part Jane kicks Will under the table and glares at him expectantly. Of course, he probably should be doing something to help his poor friend instead of staring at her in an equal state of shock. 

Will scrambles to his feet and pulls Molly over to his chair. Then picking up her food mumbles something about getting her another and makes the hastiest retreat he ever has. It’s not that Will is a coward, it’s simply that he is so far out of his comfort zone he may as well be out of time with the others. 

He’s not used to people finding out about his life as an Old One. If he’s honest he’s used to reacting to these accidents by immediately taking such knowledge from those he didn’t intend to know. Such actions weren’t an option though because he’d made a promise to Bran to not take memories as a knee jerk reaction to an uncomfortable situation.

Instead he must deal with the fall out and hope Molly won’t go around spreading it to everyone she knows. He doesn’t think she’s the type, hopefully.

All these thoughts get Will through ordering another roastbeef and back to the table where Molly is looking much more herself. Jane clearly has managed to put her back at ease in a matter of minutes.

Upon seeing him Molly even manages to smile at him. Will thinks he might be forgiven for the secrets. 

“Well that was quite a surprise.” She says pleasantly once Will has passed off her food and pulled up another chair. “Though the more I think on it the more it makes sense. There’s no good reason for such a handsome man to be so alone unless he’s mired in secrets.”

Will desperately wishes that he reacted with playful protest. But, as anyone who is deeply unaccustomed to getting compliments might guess, instead he forgets how to speak and feels his face go red.

He knows it’s noticeable because Jane won’t stop giggling. He’s not above giving her the most betrayed look he can muster until she manages to calm herself. Molly seems content to watch the scene she created unfold. 

Eventually the giggling does cease. But not without a few interjected “Oh, Will”’s. That just make things ten times worse. 

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that, William.” Jane says somehow managing to sound prim while she pats down her hair. Not that a strand had gotten out of place during her giggle fit. “It’s true, you’re quite handsome. Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

“Oh dear.” Molly says excitedly, deciding she can join the conversation. “I didn’t realize it was possible to turn that shade of red.” 

Neither did Will. He can feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off his face. Molly however, seems to think they've done enough to embarrass him for now. 

“So, Jane.” she says kindly. “How is it that you came to know my cute and apparently very powerful neighbor?” 

“Oh. I’ve known Will since we were twelve.” Jane replies. “We met on a summer vacation with our family.”

“First time you ever found an artifact, huh?” Will teases, he knows that’s not when she found the grail but he doesn’t need to get too detailed, not in public or in front of Molly.

Jane rolls her eyes. “You know that was the year before, Will. But I think I made better friends the summer I met you.”

Well that was an unnecessarily kind compliment. He knows he’s not holding up his end of the conversation but he’s a bit busy trying not to blush again. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Well, he could have a suspicion, if he weren’t for the most part solely attracted to men.

Molly gives him a weird look and says, “So are you just visiting?”   


“Actually I’m lecturing for the year for the Anthropology department.” Jane says. “When I applied they barely even interviewed me due to my Great Uncle being who he is.” 

Molly gasps, and for a second Will feels a little betrayed because it seems like that is a more exciting than him being a being of The Light. Then she hisses “You’re Merriman Lyon’s niece aren’t you?” And it all makes sense. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!


	5. Barney

# Barney

## Winter 1994, London

** [ _ Breathe _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-QRKFxI_fc) [ by Greg Maroney ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-QRKFxI_fc%22) **

Barney pulls at the constricting loop of the tie around his neck. He would do absolutely anything to be rid of the damned thing. Unfortunately it was expected attire for the artist of a gallery showing, along with a very nice suit and shiny new shoes. He just wished it didn’t leave him feeling so stifled. 

His fussing is interrupted by a glass of wine blocking his field of vision.

“You looked like you could use this.” Max Stanton’s voice says from next to him.

He looks over to see the older man smiling cheerfully but accepts the drink with a silent nod. “I hate the monkey suits too,” the older artist confides “But it makes the potential buyers think we’re classy.”

He’s saved from whining to his first real work friend that he isn’t at all like the buyers by his sister.

“There you are Barnabas. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She says sweeping up to them in a simple but elegant knee length black dress. Jane was never the kind of person to command a room, but if you were so lucky as to see her Barney always felt that you had no choice but to be captivated. His sister was one of those people that radiated kindness in the best way, and that alone made her stunning. 

“Jane.” Barney can’t help but exclaim, truly glad to see his sister. He sees her at least once a week now that she lives in London once again, but still, seeing her here supporting him fills him with gladness. 

“Yes, Yes. I am delighted to see you too.” Jane says in the most patronizing tone possible. He knows she is doing it to get a rise out of him and for that reason alone he refuses to go for the bait.

Then she holds out her hand to Max, “And you must be Max Stanton, I’m Barney’s sister, Jane.”

Max bemusedly shakes Jane’s hand, and politely says “Nice to meet you.” 

“And you as well. I’ve brought you both a surprise.” Jane says and Barney finally understands why he’s felt like she’s been pushing them through the pleasantries since her first words. Jane always gets impatient when she has a surprise. 

“What is it then?” Barney says expectantly.

“Who.” Jane corrects casually gesturing across the room towards the buffet table. For some reason he expects to see Bran again. That certainly isn’t who she brought though. 

Barney is able to make out a tall figure with ear length shaggy brown hair before Max all but shouts, “Will!”

Will, and indeed it is Will, turns with an awkward smile, as do the three other Stanton’s in the room. Well, Will’s siblings aren’t smiling awkwardly, they run the range of surprised and pleased. 

Simultaneously Will makes his way over to them, and he is descended upon by the remaining Stanton's. 

Barney is so glad he doesn’t come from a very large family. They are only speaking to half the Stanton family but all the questions and demands directed at Will are still cacophonous.

Jane stands back and watches the scene unfold. If Barney didn’t know any better he would think that his sister was a little smug over the whole thing.

For his part Will simply looks mildly terrified.There’s no way Will can keep up with all the chatter directed at him. Voices demanding to know where he’s been and why he doesn’t write or visit when he lives in London too.

Barney is wondering if somebody should intervene when Stephen, who is clearly the oldest even without Max having told him, clears his throat. The remaining four siblings fall silent leaving Barney impressed. 

“Will. It's nice to see you.” the oldest says in a way that tells Barney that Max isn't the only Stanton who does not hear much from the youngest Stanton.

“You too, Steve.” Will says. It would be very dishonest of Barney to say that the sheepishness in Will’s tone does not provide some small amount of satisfaction. Apparently it’s been years since anyone has heard from Will, at least in any meaningful way. How Jane managed to produce their errant friend was beyond him. 

“You said you couldn’t make it.” A man who had introduced himself to Barney as Paul, earlier accuses. “Something about a work function you could not avoid. I was concerned you were getting worse and that I wouldn’t be able to help.”

That bit intrigued Barney, but that’s the down side to showing up in the middle of family drama. You can’t exactly ask to be let in on what’s going on. 

“That was my fault.” Jane steps in. “I thought it would be a nice surprise for everybody.

Barney senses Will’s brother’s aren’t willing to let it drop that easily. Will’s lucky that his sister loves him, or at least isn’t interested in allowing her brothers to cause a scene in the middle of a gallery showing. 

“Max.” The sister that had been introduced to him as Gwen says with a tone of voice that reminds him she is a mother. “More potential buyers are arriving, you should go speak with them.”

Max looks like he wants to argue but does as he’s told. “As for the two of you.” She says turning to address Paul and Stephen. “I know we have a lot of catching up to do with our little brother but now is not the time or place. So, let’s just be glad he’s here.”

Barney notices that Will has taken pointed interest in his feet. One of Will’s biggest tells for when he is feeling guilty. Somebody needs to intervene but he doesn’t really want to be the one. After all if Max needs to be speaking with other guests so does he. 

“Barnabas, shouldn’t you be speaking with those potential buyers as well?” Jane asks pleasantly but with steel underneath that lets him know that he better be speaking with said potential buyers in the next five minute or even god won’t be able to help him.

He does the smart thing and leaves the group to speak with another buyer. Before he says his goodbye’s though he turns to Will. “We’ll chat later?”

“Of course.” Will agrees. In that simple phrase Barney feels some of that razor sharp focus he is used to from his friend return. He’s slightly disconcerted to have it directed at him. Still it is reassuring that Will is not planning to do another runner.

There’s nothing left but to say goodbye to the remaining Stanton siblings and speak to the remaining buyers as he said he would. 

The evening passes by in a whirlwind of pleasantries and overly academic discussion of his own work that makes him feel like he’s back in university. Before he knows it the showing is winding down. 

Barney doesn’t know how but they sell most of the paintings in the gallery that night. He knows he isn’t at his best for convincing people of his works value. Distracted by Will’s presence and the odd intensity in his friends expression and tone when he agreed to speak with Barney again.

As if thinking about it had summoned him Will is at Barney’s side. It won’t hurt to chat with Will for a bit now. There’s hardly any guests besides friends and family anyways. 

“So tell me which pieces are yours.” Will says sounding genuinely interested. “I’d know Max’s style anywhere. He was always drawing when we were kids. But I don’t know enough about art to tell your mother and your work apart.”

Barney gives him a look and Will turns red, “I’m not saying they look the same. I’m just saying I don’t have the eye to tell.”

“That’s what the little scribble on the bottom is for Will.” Max says, walking towards them with more champagne like the alcohol god he clearly is. 

Barney can’t hide his surprised snort of laughter when Will squawks indignantly. “I know what the signature is for! Can’t I want to look at a friends artwork with them?”

“Not if you’re going to make me question that doctorate you supposedly hold.” Max says.

Will frowns in annoyance. “Is there a reason you’re harassing me?”

“Gwen told me to tell you that we’re getting food after this, and that if you flaunt off instead of coming with us she will cry.”

The sigh that bursts form Will’s lungs somehow sounds both exasperated and amused. “Yeah, I’ll go.” Will concedes. “Tell Gwen there will be no need for tears.”

Clearly satisfied with how the conversation went Max nods and walks away, presumably to tell Gwen to call off the tears.

“So tell me about the paintings that took place at Trewissick.” Will asks not so subtle leading Barney in that direction. Those paintings are towards the back of the gallery and so it is easiest to tell Will the family story that matches the painting as they approach them. 

It’s one of very few paintings that are hidden behind a false wall standing in the middle of the spacious area. The false wall was placed there by the gallery to create more wall space. It also hid the somewhat unsightly emergency exit door from view when you were entering the gallery.

It was as they passed this false wall that he heard Jane cry out faintly. He would never miss his sisters voice, even when it was coming faintly through a metal door. Without saying a word he and Will are busting through the door and into the back alley to help Jane.

If he didn’t know something was wrong when the Emergency door alarm didn’t sound he definitely knew upon seeing Jane. Nothing was wrong with his sister. She was sitting on a crate looking as collected as she had earlier when a very rich collector was asking her about discoveries she had made on digs.

Barney feels a flash of concern and anger rise through his chest. Then Jane smiles in a gentle understanding way, and Barney realizes that Jane would not set him up without a reason.

“What’s going on?” He finds himself asking. Better to get to the point than to waltz around whatever Jane and Will clearly want to talk about. 

“We have something we need to talk to you about, Barnabas.” Will says, that soft seriousness Barney remembers returns to Will in a heavy cloud. 

“Really?” Barney can’t help but ask drily. “I suppose that explains the massively obvious set up out here.”

“It’s important, Barney.” Jane’s tone is gentle, but the stubborn set of her jaw tells him he’ll save time, and Will’s ears, by not arguing. 

“Okay. Then talk.” Is all he’s willing to offer. He’s starting to feel ganged up on, and he doesn’t actually like it. 

The ensuing silence is long, awkward, and heavy. Will licks his lips a couple of times like he thinks he’s found a good place to start but thinks better of it. For a moment he thinks they are about to tell him they are dating. But, that would not require all the cloak and dagger. 

“What do you remember of our holiday’s with Gummery Barnabas?” Jane is eventually the one to ask. It is not the direction he expects the conversation to go.

“Not much.” Barney says. “I was small, wasn’t I?”

“Not that small.” Will says. And Barney would almost think there were nerves underneath that dry tone. “Jane says you’re having trouble sleeping.”

“We all do.” Barney says feeling a bit defensive. Who is Will to come lecture him about sleep after so many years? After all the sleepless nights Barney has had, with Will himself invading his sleep. And what does it have to do with Gummery?

“But you know that the dreams that keep you and your siblings awake aren’t dreams, don’t you Barney?”

On his craziest nights. The nights where the future and what he always tells himself is an imagined past mix in on each other in a tumultuous whirlwind for hours and hours on end. On those nights Barney thinks that the dreams might be true. The cold light of dawn always, always sets him straight. “There is no way those things could have happened. Could there be?”

Apparently he said that last bit out loud. 

“I can show you.” Will says in that very serious way of his. “You’ll remember everything that Merry showed you of the world, and you won’t forget again.”

Barney wants to laugh in Will’s face. It’s ridiculous, but the solemn way that Will calls Gummery Merry, like all of Gummery’s colleagues do if they happen to run into them. That is in line with the dreams. 

“Okay.” Barney says. The worst that can happen is nothing. At best he finds out why it always feels like he is slowly slipping into insanity. There’s really no contest here.

“There will be a price, Barney.” Jane warns. “I know you can’t really understand this but I think you know that we were involved in earth shattering movements as children.”

Barney nods, because if the dreams are true Barney knows he stands for The Light. He has no idea what that is or what it means, but he knows that is what he stands for.

“If you remember, you’re involved again.” Jane says. “It’s dangerous.”

Because going insane slowly isn’t dangerous too. It’s not like Barney has much of a choice, really. And he’d chosen The Light as a child, surely Gummery would not have led him that far astray. 

“You’re involved in it though, you and Will?” He thinks Bran is too, but he doesn’t know how to bring up the shepherd without making Jane sad. It is apparently incredibly easy.

“And Bran, yes.” Will says. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to.”

“Yet, you’re here, asking me.” Barney points out. 

“We could use your help.” Will concedes. “But you have already given The Light so much and if you join us the risks are many. We really don’t have a right to ask you to do this.”

“Well, consider it an offer in exchange for not going insane.” Barney says. 

Wills eyes go unimaginably sad. Barney knows what the other man is going to say before he says it. “I can’t promise that Barnabas.” 

Well, that’s not reassuring but something deep inside Barney still knows that this is the right thing to do. That he will live his life disappointed in himself if he does not take this chance. Surely that is the fast track to madness? 

“Then see it as my sacrifice to make.” Barney finds himself saying. 

Barney can’t look at Jane because the small sniff she just gave tells him she is tearing up. Moved by the difficult decision he just made. He is grateful when Will’s only response is to nod in the solemn but strong way of his. “Very well. Jane?”

"He looks to his sister wondering how she can help. Something in him is willing to believe Will can, but Jane?

His sister smiles shakily from unshed tears, like she knows what he is thinking and leans down to pick an Iris from along the stone work of the alley that Barney would swear wasn’t there a moment ago. “Here Barney, take this. An Iris for memory.” She says offering the flower to him.

Barney takes the flower with more trepidation than he’d ever admit out loud. It’s just a flower, the kind mother used to grow in her garden, but Jane and Will clearly expect something to happen. Something to change in him.

He’s just starting to feel the disappointment that nothing was going to happen when Will reaches out and gently caresses the flower.

Remembering was both remarkable and not significant at all. He wasn’t hit by a flood of images of what once was or overwhelmed by how much he once knew and now knew again. It was simply like a fog had been lifted from him mind. Like when you suddenly remember something after a long night of drinking.

Still there was something about knowing that Owain Glyndwr had truly been a good man. About remembering the rainbow bridge that took Bran and Will for the night. Or the six of them standing proudly under the Silver Tree against the Dark. Something about being able to put his finger on those things was incredible. 

“Damn”. He sighs feeling a bit off kilter even with the smallness of remembering.

“Alright?” Will asks, looking concerned.

Barney nods, because it’s not that anything is wrong per se. It’s just, damn. It was a lot to take in.

“So, what’s the new threat?” Barney finds himself breaking the silence.

Will smiles then, a self deprecating smile. Barney now remembers that expression to mean that with all his vast knowledge Will doesn’t know and he doesn’t like it. “That is why we need you Barney. We know who our enemy is but not what they are doing.”

When it becomes clear that the Old One is not going to fill in his sister prompts, “We were hoping you’d seen something.”

Right, because he’s the groups Seer. The image of Will wasting away before his brother Paul finds him comes to mind but he knows that is not what they are talking about. Now does not seem to be the time to ask Will if he is depressed anyhow. 

Then the painting comes to mind. The one he’d been painting at the start of this whole gallery showing. The one with the malicious man whose face resembled Bran’s whispering to the scariest monster he’d met on all their travels. 

Really the painting could only mean one thing. 

“I’ve seen Mordred.” Barney says, “He’s the threat, right?”

Will nods. “I sensed him come into the world last autumn. I did not know what it was I sensed until Bran came to tell me of a discussion he’d had with his half-brother.”

“I’ve had a vision of him speaking with the Afanc.” Barney admits. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything-”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when another vision hits him like a ton of bricks. 

There's an excavation site on the Thames. If he had to guess he’d say it’s an old shipwreck but what really caught Barney’s attention was the presence of his sister, Will and Bran. The first two were clearly distracting the group of overly eager archaeologist while Bran snuck towards a huge chest in broad daylight. 

He had the sense that magic was involved because no one seemed to be able to see Bran who’s version of sneaking seemed be strolling along in broad daylight. 

Reality hit just as hard as the vision had, and much like he’d expected remembering to feel. He’s suddenly aware that he was falling but that it’s okay because Will caught him and is easing him to the ground. 

“Alright?” Will is asking, the concern clear on his face. “You just went down there.”

Suddenly Jane is on his left, hands fluttering to help with an unseen hurt.

“I’ve had a vision as you very well know, Will.” Barney can’t help but grouse.

“Yes, one so strong you also fainted.” Will says patiently.

Barney rolls his eyes. “Fine, I won’t tell you what I know.”

It’s very satisfying when they both go silent. He repays Will and Jane for not babying him by telling them what he saw. “Some archaeologists were uncovering a shipwreck along a river. You and Jane were there distracting them while Bran tried to steal something.”

Jane’s eyes fly to Will’s. “Do you know what that is?"

Will bites his lip thoughtfully. “I’ve an idea but I can’t be certain. It’d help if I knew where it was.” 

“There was a river that looked a lot like the Thames near by. A green bridge and an old manor, that said Hunt-something?”

“Huntercobme?"

Barney nods.

"They found the Prydwen.” Will breaths.

“The what?” Jane asks but Barney knows what Will is talking about. 

“Arthur's ship? Didn’t he take it outside time with him?”

Will smiles, that I’m about to say something utterly ambiguous and you’re going to hate me forever for it smile. 

“He took it’s essence with him, yes, but the physical remains stayed wrecked on the bank of the Thames where they have been for a thousand years.”

“It looked physical when he left.” Jane says and Barney is relieved that even though she is clearly in it deeper than he is she is also confused by the things Will says. 

Will shrugs, “It would, as did many other things at that time.” They both decide to accept Will’s word at face value. 

“So, now what?” Jane asks. 

“We wait til it’s actually found. Then, there will be an object we need to retrieve. It’s a good thing we have Jane, she can probably help us look like we belong.” Will says standing and offering Jane a hand up. “We should probably go back in. The others will begin looking for us shortly.”

As if to prove his point Paul sticks his head around the corner of the Alley. “What are you all doing out here? The Gallery is kicking everyone out, I was sent to find you Will, you promised to come out with the family.”

Will grins as if it’s perfectly natural to find your little brother and his recently reclaimed friends in an alley. “We were talking about certain things.” Will acknowledges like Paul might also know what is in the world, “But if any of the others ask you’ll have to make something up.”

Paul sighs. “I’m telling them you were smoking.” 

Will just shrugs like it doesn’t really matter to him one way or the other and moves to exit the alley. There isn’t really anything to do but follow him out.

Will just shrugs like it doesn’t really matter to him one way or the other and moves to exit the alley. There isn’t really anything to do but follow him out.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I say I'd see you in December? Whoops. So, Chapter 1 sorted itself quicker than expected it, so here I am with chapter 1 of Gathering! Yay! I really hope you enjoyed it! I think my next post will be in actual December this time, but, who knows?


End file.
